“How did it go?” were the chairman’s first words.

“We agreed on a coupon of 3.8 percent per annum,” said Seb as Mai Ling dug deeper into his shoulder blade and found the exact spot. “But only on condition that the French franc doesn’t fall below its current rate against the pound of 9.42.”

“Well done, Seb, because if I remember correctly, you would have settled at 3.4 percent and even allowed the franc to be devalued by a further 10 percent.”

“That’s right, but after a bit of negotiating and several bottles of rather good wine, they came around. I’ve got the contract in French and English.”

“When can we expect you back?”

“I’ll be on the first flight to Heathrow tomorrow morning, so I should be in the office before midday.”

“Could you drop in and see me as soon as you’re back? There’s something I need to discuss with you rather urgently.”

“Yes, of course, chairman.”

“On a lighter note, I’ve had a charming letter from Samantha to say how pleased she was with the outcome of the trial.”

“How did she find out about that?” asked Seb.

“You evidently told Jessica.”

“Yes, Jessie now calls me two or three times a week, always reverse charges, of course.”

“She’s also spoken to me a couple of times.”

“Jessie’s been calling you reverse charges?”

“Only when she can’t get hold of you.”

“I’ll kill her.”

“No, no,” said Hakim. “Don’t do that. She makes a pleasant change from most of my callers, although heaven help the man who marries her.”

“No one will ever be good enough.”

“And Samantha? Are you good enough for her?”

“Of course not, but I haven’t given up hope because Jessie tells me they’re going to Rome in the summer, when they hope to see all nineteen Caravaggios.”

“I assume you’ve booked your holiday at the same time?”

“You’re worse than Jessie. It wouldn’t surprise me if you two were in league together.”

“I’ll see you around twelve tomorrow,” said Hakim, before the phone went dead.

Mai Ling returned the phone to the little table in the corner of the room before starting to work on Seb’s neck. But he couldn’t help wondering why the chairman wanted to see him the moment he got back, and why he wasn’t willing to discuss the matter over the phone.

A little buzz on Mai Ling’s clock indicated that his hour was up. Seb was so relaxed he’d almost fallen asleep. He climbed off the table, went into the bedroom and extracted a ten-franc note from his wallet. By the time he returned, the massage table had been folded up, the bottles of oils returned to their case and the towels deposited in the laundry basket.